In 1984
by kimbari
Summary: In 1984 the world was Walter Bishop's oyster.  This is an adult story about adults.


Walter Bishop loved his wife. Elizabeth was beautiful, sensitive, wise and brilliant, more than a match for him. She was a wonderful mother to their beloved son, and he enjoyed the life he lived with the two of them. Sexual fidelity, however, was a foreign concept to him. He had come of age during the "free sex" Sixties, and while this informed his mores, he could no more be satisfied with just one woman than he could be content to know all there was to know.

Elizabeth had also come of age in the Sixties, but Walter knew better than to expect her to share him. Fortunately, she wasn't a suspicious woman and Walter did all in his power to keep her from finding out when he strayed. At any rate, he strayed neither far nor in excess. He had sex with only two women beside his wife, the same two for years. The three of them even knew each other. It amused Walter to see the glances his other women threw at his wife ("Does she know? She _must_ know!") and, from time to time, at each other ("He wouldn't with _her_... would he?") Such was his power and he reveled in it.

Walter loved them all - his blonde, his redhead, his brunette - in his is own self-centered way. And he would begrudge none of them, not even his lawfully wedded Elizabeth, the chance to find pleasure in the arms of another. He wouldn't begrudge them if the thought that they might stray had ever crossed his mind. But it never did, and neither did they.

Walter Bishop was a happy man.

* * *

**Carla**

"Good-morning, Carla," Walter said. He walked past his lab assistant, straight into his office, but not before he noticed her ears go red as she returned his greeting. He smiled. She only blushed like that on Tuesday.

He paused at the door, shrugging into his lab coat. "Is today Tuesday?" he asked. It was good to be sure.

"All day long," Carla replied, her calm voice belying her vivid blush. She concentrated on her work and wouldn't look at him.

"Good," Walter said. He stood behind her, close enough to smell her hair, a sweet and inexplicably green scent. He stood too close, well into her personal space, close enough to feel her tension. Close enough for her to feel his. "How is it going?" he said.

She turned to look at him, her face calm. The blush had receded but there was heat in her gray-blue eyes. "It would go a lot better if you weren't in my personal space," she said.

"You don't mind me in your personal space," he murmured, his voice liquid in its lower register.

Carla looked at him askance. "I mind when I'm working with a volatile compound. Go away, or the fireworks will be out here instead of where you want them."

One didn't get any more subordinate than a lab assistant, especially _his_ lab assistant, but Carla insisted on equality. He enjoyed it when she stood up to him. True, there had been a bit of strife in the early days of their partnership, a strife that ended when their physical relationship began. Each considered that victory theirs alone; in reality it was a little of both.

After a final sniff at her unruly blonde curls Walter moved on, smiling. Later he would demonstrate who was boss... unless it was going to be one of those deliciously frequent occasions when it wasn't him.

Each pursued their respective research until lunch time. Carla went out while he ate brown-bagged PB&J sandwiches at his desk and washed them down with a Coke. She returned after an hour and came directly into his office. As he watched, she closed the door behind her, removed her jacket and hung it on the coat tree. She perched atop the desk, well within his personal space.

Walter stared at her legs as the tension grew in the silence. Never mind that this happened any Tuesday the two of them were in the lab together, it always started the way it had the first time: this exquisite dance that always ended with the two of them barely able to control their cries of release.

He continued to stare at her legs. Carla had slender, beautiful legs, much nicer than Elizabeth's. Other days of the week found her in tights, or slacks, or those silly too-short pants that were the current style. The Tuesday legs were clad in black nylon that extended only part of the way up her thighs, was secured by a garter belt at her waist and everything in between, he knew from experience, was bare. Silky soft, and bare, aching to be taken.

He lifted her feet and slowly removed her shoes, first one, then the other. He placed her feet in his lap. Warm and slightly damp, they smelled of leather, and the sensation of them, wriggling in his lap against his growing erection, shortened his breath. Carla slid over until she was directly in front of him. He looked up from her feet and into her face. She smiled, a small, almost absent-minded smile. A new blush was blooming in the open vee of her sweater, and her nipples peaked, large and hard enough to cast tiny shadows on the fuzzy fabric. Walter could smell her, now, and he knew without touching her that she was wet.

He savored this, the foreplay. It was the only area of his life in which he practiced delayed gratification. Nothing made him feel stronger than the sounds of pleasure coming from the woman beneath him, or above him, or any other way she wanted him. He took Carla's feet, one in each hand, and gently massaged her arches with his thumbs. He casually looked up her skirt and smiled at what waited for him there. He looked into her eyes. She was breathing hard, she was ready... but not as ready as the application of his hands and mouth was going to make her.

He ceased rubbing her arches and he placed her feet on his shoulders. He slid forward, moving his chair as she lay back on her elbows and spread her thighs. He wasted no time going down on her. When his lips and tongue touched her vulva, she made a noise that was somewhere between a sigh and a groan. "Talk to me, darling," he whispered against her clit, but she was already past coherent conversation.

He traced her damp, salty folds with the tip of his tongue. She moaned loudly, then bit her lip alarmed that she might be heard. It was a short moment before her alarm faded; she sighed as he deepened his touching. He parted her lips with gentle fingers, then slid his thumb into her. Walter could feel her inner muscles contract around the digit. She arched and moaned as he rotated it, his fingers gently combing the pale curls on her mons. Carla pressed herself hard against his hand, her hips rocking, strong, beautiful as he pushed past his fingers to tongue her clit. She laid herself flat across his desk blotter. Another eloquent moan escaped her. He stroked her button, lavished it with his undivided attention. Her hips moved urgently, and she spread her thighs wider. She was close, sooo close...

He got to his feet and the unexpected change in position made her cry out. Her inner muscles tugged at his thumb as he unbuckled and unzipped with one hand. He unsheathed his cock and the time between the removal of thumb and insertion of penis was too small to measure.

Their cries of pleasure harmonized. He pushed her skirt way up, out of the way. He wanted to see what he was feeling, her tight, pussy clasping, pulling at him, the desperate rhythm of her hips, the way his thick staff slid, friction despite the slickness she exuded. So much power he thrust into her, deeper, harder. She uttered a helpless cry and he could feel her coming now, her hips freezing as his cock plunged in to the hilt. He held her pelvis tightly, still, gasping, wait... wait... wait... Carla arched and cried out again and he came, echoing her cry with a moan, ejaculating deep inside her, suspended in that place that one could only get to from where they were.

He slumped over her, onto his elbows, panting. She moaned softly. He wanted to kiss her, and he knew she wanted to be kissed. His mouth was still wet with her juices, and in the beginning she had been offended by, had _hated_ that fragrant kiss. In time he'd managed to change her mind about that; now his mouth on hers was eagerly accepted.

The two of them kissed until they began to feel the awkward positions they were in. Walter raised himself and gazed at Carla's face. She gazed back, storm-colored eyes through darkened lashes. Inscrutable. Sated.

"Say you love me," he ordered.

"But I don't," Carla said.

"You're mighty cool for someone with a penis stuffed inside her," he challenged. Carla raised her eyebrows. Butter wouldn't melt anywhere in her vicinity. "Say it anyway."

"You want me to lie?" she said. She contracted her inner muscles around his softening cock. His eyes glazed over.

"Whatever it takes," he returned, his voice slipping into depths she only heard in this room, at these times.

"I love you, Walter," Carla said. It was rote, a schoolgirl reciting a poem she didn't understand. He pulled out of her, a sudden, jarring move that made her gasp.

"No, you don't," he said, replacing his parts and tucking, zipping, straightening. "I don't care... I couldn't get by without you."

"Now, who's lying?" Carla pushed her skirt down, sat up and slid off the desk. Holding his gaze, she moved her feet around until she found her shoes and slipped them on without once looking down. She was going to need the ladies' room soon, but this afterplay was as delicious as the fore and refused to be quickly dispensed with.

Walter wound an ash-blonde curl around his finger. "You know better than that," he said tenderly.

He'd made her come, good and hard, as always. Carla felt languid and sleepy, but the sound of his voice produced a tingle between her legs and the sudden memory of him inside her sent heat zinging up her spine. She suppressed a shudder, sighed and left.

Walter watched her go, his eyes on the bright red of her sweater, on her small retreating form, until it disappeared. He smiled and continued to smile as he turned to restore order to his desk.

* * *

**Nina**

"I'm going for a run," Walter announced. He paused in the doorway of his office, resplendent in running clothes: shorts, a well-worn t-shirt, socks and Nikes. He wore the ever-popular sweatband like a laurel crown. Carla was there, putting files away. She turned and gave him a long, slow once-over, feet to sweatband. She smiled slightly in approval, and returned to the filing.

"Enjoy," she said, just as the phone rang. She closed the file drawer, walked over to his desk and picked up the phone. Walter delayed his departure, curious as to the caller.

"Doctor Bishop's office," Carla said. After a short pause she said, "Oh, hello, Nina... I'm fine, thank you... Walter?" She looked at the scientist, who was emphatically signaling No! "Yes, you just caught him, hold on." She held the phone out in his direction. He glared at her as he entered the office and snatched the phone out of her hand.

"Hello, Nina. How are you this afternoon?"

_I'm dandy. I need to see you._

"What can't wait until our meeting tomorrow? I was just about to go for a run."

Long pause. _Surely, I don't have to spell it out, Walter._ Her voice caressed his name. He glanced over at Carla, who took the hint and departed, closing the door behind her.

"What's wrong, Nina? Couldn't get Belly to haul your ashes today?"

_He's out of town... but why can't I want you... this time._

Walter scoffed. "Oh, please. I'm not laboring under any delusions about where I stand with you in relation to Mister Bell."

_Oh, stop whining,_ Nina said. Y_ou know you want to come..._ She paused and Walter heard hear her smile at the play on words. _I'll send my limo for you._

"I'm going running, Nina," he said firmly. "I won't be at an address."

_Then I guess I'll have to hunt you down._ She hung up without giving Walter a chance to reply.

He collapsed the antenna and replaced the phone on its base. "Women..." he muttered, and left the office.

Walter had discovered that the perfect time for his daily run was after 1:00 p.m., when traffic was lightest in the Yard. It was relatively quiet which meant there was less likelihood of someone derailing his train of thought. He always ran three miles out, a different direction every day. He was halfway back when a black limousine pulled up at the curb alongside him. He jogged in place as the rear window slid down. He didn't need to see the blaze of autumn hair to know it was Nina.

She leaned out of the window and gave him the same once-over that Carla had given him. "Looking good, Doctor Bishop," she said, and licked her lips. "Need a ride?"

"I haven't finished my run," Walter said, knowing it didn't matter. He may not be done exercising, but he was through running for the day.

"Let me rephrase that." Nina leaned further out of the window, displaying a generous amount of cleavage. It was Walter's turn to lick his lips. "Do you wanna ride?" She put a lascivious spin on the words.

"Nina, why do you tempt me so?" He stopped jogging, leaned sideways and grabbed his foot to stretch his quadriceps. He saw nothing but the soft, pale mounds of her breasts, which was exactly what she wanted him to see. He put his foot down and stretched the other leg.

"Oh, Walter, just get in the car," she scolded, then smiled craftily. "I have Cess..."

Walter stopped stretching and put his hands on his hips. Still breathing hard he grinned and said, "That's an offer I can't refuse."

"How well do I know you?" Nina pushed the limo door open and retreated into the car's depths. Walter looked around, his expression something like guilty, then climbed in. The car pulled away from the curb the moment he slammed the door.

Nina sat on the far side of the rear seat and now that he could see all of her, he noticed that he could see nearly _all_ of her. Her lush curves filled and spilled over the pale blue satin and lace teddy. She stared at him hungrily, her legs folded beneath her. She held a silver cigarette case which Walter assumed contained the aforementioned Cess. He had a feeling that a good time was about to be had by all.

"You might have given me a chance to shower," Walter said, pulling his sweatband off and mopping his face with it.

"I'm not afraid of a little sweat," Nina said. She tucked her tongue into a molar and eyed his crotch. She moaned deep inside her chest, an almost inaudible sound. Nina opened the case, removed a bomber of a joint and handed it to him.

"There's a lighter in the window pocket," she said. "Fire that up, will you."

"My pleasure," Walter said, and did so. He took a short drag and handed it over. Nina took a nice long one, then another before she handed it back. It didn't take long for the joint to become history and the back of the limo filled with fragrant smoke. Walter briefly wondered what Nina's driver might be thinking, but then this was Nina. Smoking premium marijuana in the back of the limo with a scientist dressed in running clothes was _far_ from the most scandalous thing she'd ever done.

The two of them basked in the sexually-charged high, grinning at nothing. Nina offered coke but Walter refused.

"If we do coke I'm not going to be able to do you," he said, and before he could draw another breath his arms were full of Nina. She straddled him and pulled his damp shirt over his head. Her nails scratched him as she pulled his shorts down. His cock sprang free and Nina stared at it, her expression worshipful. Walter offered her a smug smile.

"Which hole, darling?" Walter asked, his voice deep and hot.

Nina leaned back and unsnapped the crotch of her teddy with an emphatic jerk.

"You're a pig, Walter," she said breathlessly as she guided his cock to her warm, slippery pussy. She lowered herself onto him slowly, stroking deeper and deeper. She moaned as he slid in to the hilt. She rotated her hips. Walter made a noise of deep delight, to which she responded with an open smile, and he kissed her.

They were peripherally aware of the limo's movement through traffic. It was smooth; the driver was a good one. Nina let her head fall back, giving him a delicious view of pink-tipped breasts. He grasped them with greedy hands and pressed his face into the abundant flesh. She clutched the hands that clutched her, letting out small cries of pleasure as he thrust upwards, into her. The cries got louder.

"You want the driver to know what's going on?" he mumbled into her cleavage. Her response was a musical gasp. He released her breasts and wound a hand in her hair and his other arm around her waist, pulling her closer. He liked this position; he could use both hands and see her face.

Nina focused on Walter's face, met his gaze without a trace of shame. "This is good," she breathed. "This is _so_ good!"

Walter responded incoherently. She pulled him deliciously deeper inside, spreading her thighs wider with a wriggle that told him this was going to be over very soon. And when it was, he would go back to his life. Nina Sharp didn't have a day of the week. When she called he came. Always. Walter couldn't imagine doing anything else.

"Oooohh..." she moaned. She was close to orgasm and, paradoxically, her movement slowed. "It's good..."

"How good?" Walter asked. He slid down until he was sitting on his backbone. He braced his legs and thrust up! drawing a cry of surprise and pain from her as he hit bottom. "Tell me, darling..."

"That hurt, you bastard!" Nina hissed, digging her nails into his shoulders.

"You liked it," Walter taunted her, his voice as deep and black as crude as he thrust up into her again.

"Oh, God..." Nina's fingernails dug in vengefully as he set the pace for the race to the finish which was suddenly

now

Nina tipped her head back and yelled at the ceiling of the car. Walter groaned his release, whispering her name, over and over, "Nina, Nina, Ni-nahhh..."

She collapsed onto him, boneless. He held her, stroked her hair, voiced his satisfaction and his gratitude. After a long while she rolled off him, and settled on the seat by his side. Walter pulled his shorts up and looked around for his t-shirt. Nina handed it to him with an air of weariness. She cleaned herself up with a wet-nap, refastened the teddy and wriggled into a skirt. Walter twirled his sweatband around one finger as he watched her reapply makeup and comb her hair. She noticed him staring.

"What?" she said, teasing her bangs over her frown.

"Nothing," Walter said with a sleepy smile. "Short memory. 'Here's your hat, what's your hurry?'"

Nina rolled her eyes and put on lipstick.

The limo deposited him near the Kresge building and sped off, leaving Walter to stare bemusedly after it. His legs were a bit rubbery after the workout he'd just had, but he managed a slow jog back to his lab as if nothing had happened between his departure and return but an interlude of mentation augmented by a run.

* * *

**Elizabeth**

Weary from fighting Friday night traffic between Cambridge and Grafton, Walter carefully unlocked the door to a silent house. He and Elizabeth had long since come to an agreement to keep their own sleep hours no matter what. He pictured her lying in their bed, on her back as she was wont... and snoring. An amused smile turned up the corners of his mouth and close on the heels of that emotion came fondness. He would see her in a moment. First, he needed to check on his son.

He hung up his jacket, then removed his shoes. He crept quietly down the hall to Peter's room and pushed the half-open door wider. The child lay in his bed, sprawled on his stomach, an arm and a leg hanging over the side of the bed. Walter swiftly entered and rolled Peter over onto his back, safely away from the edge. He tucked the blanket in around him. There! Out of harm's way. He leaned over and kissed the boy's forehead, then stood gazing at him for a long time, loving him and wondering at how deeply he cherished his son. Peter slept on, as oblivious to his father's adoration as he was when he was awake.

Walter's next stop was the bathroom, where he showered and shaved. It had been a busy week, but that "busy-ness" did nothing to reduce his desire for Elizabeth. In fact, her apparent oblivion to his "busy-ness" made him want her more. She asked him no questions and he told her no lies.

He slipped into their bedroom, closed and locked the door. Peter seldom made nighttime journeys to seek out parental comfort but tonight Walter wasn't taking any chances.

Elizabeth lay on her side, snoring lightly and giving lie to conventional wisdom that sleeping on your side prevented snoring. She adamantly denied that she snored, even in the face of recorded proof. Walter accepted it as a small price to pay for the many wonders of Elizabethness. He lifted the blanket and slid naked into the bed, spooning her. Her hot, sleepy scent filled his nose and he reached down and laid his cock on the warm shelf of her lower thigh. She made a soft noise and pulled his arm around her. She sighed and whispered, "I thought you'd never get here, Jerome..."

"Very funny," Walter murmured and pushed his nose through her dark curls to sniff her scalp. He pressed closer, his cock safe where he left it.

"You're so sure there's no Jerome," Elizabeth said. "So much ego."

"I defy Jerome, or any other man, to make love to you the way I do." Walter spoke softly, but she could feel the sound vibrate in his chest and she squirmed backwards, wanting to get closer, to the voice and the man.

"Did I mention ego?" she returned, and rolled over to face him. "And as for making love to me... I don't think I'm in the mood."

"Don't worry, Elizabeth." He kissed her nose. "I have mood enough for the both of us." He captured her mouth with his before she could formulate a comeback.

Walter's kiss could get her to do anything.

They counted each others teeth with their tongues as Walter slid her nightgown up to her arms. She obligingly slipped them from the garment and he pulled it over her head and discarded it.

He pulled her closer, thoroughly aroused now that they were skin to skin. She moaned and moved against him, pressing her sex in the direction of his. He paused in his kissing to take her face in his hands. He could barely see her in the weak light of the nightlight, but that didn't matter because he had the fine features memorized. "Have I mentioned that I love you?"

Elizabeth pretended to think about it. "Last anniversary, I think... or was it Saint Valentine's Day?"

Walter traced the contours of her face, seeking the bones beneath the skin with the tips of his fingers and naming them in his head... _supraorbital foramen... zygomaticalfacial foramen..._

After a few moments of this nonsense, Elizabeth said, with no small amount of asperity, "Walter, are you reciting my facial bones again?"

He stopped naming and chuckled. "You caught me."

"Well, the way I see it," Elizabeth said, "you can continue with your anatomy class reminiscences, or..." she reached down between them and captured his undivided attention with a soft, warm hand, "you can shag me. Choose one, and quickly."

He chose. "Turn over," he said, and she complied, coming to rest on hands and knees, her back arched, ready for him. He didn't penetrate her right away, taking the time instead to caress her back and hips with both hands, running them down her thighs then back up to her sides. He wrapped one arm around her and nosed through her hair until he found her neck and the spot behind and just below her ear. It was her second sweetest spot (the hand on the end of his encircling arm was busy with the first) and when he nipped the area with his teeth, she gasped and called out his name. She was moving against the hand between her legs and he felt her arousal, slicking his hand.

"Oh, please, now, darling... now," she said breathlessly. He pulled her upright, against him, both arms wrapped around her, now. She could feel his cock, iron hard, pressing against her, nudging her backside. She wasn't sure where he was going with this (he often surprised her, which had never yet affected the quality of her orgasms), but she knew she needed him inside her _somewhere_ right now. "Walter... darling, please..."

His response was to sink his teeth into that spot again. He would leave a bruise that would catch his eye, over and over again the entire weekend and each time make him smile. He pulled her up tightly against him, positioning her, angling himself until his cock found his home. He pushed into her glorious wetness and she called out her pleasure.

"Quiet," he growled into her ear, his body trembling with his effort to maintain control. "Do you want to wake the boy?" It was a rhetorical question, but she answered in the negative, and then all rational communication ceased.

* * *

Walter's sleep was deep and dreamless and he woke with his face to Elizabeth's back. He frowned and leaned up on his elbow. She was still asleep, not snoring for once. She rolled over and reached out for him. He grabbed the questing hand and pressed a kiss into her palm. She smiled as he slid up the bed until he was face to face.

"Peter's going to be up soon," Elizabeth murmured, in a voice that told him she wanted more sleep. And what else was new on Saturday.

"It's too early," Walter said. He moved a strand of hair out of her face. "It's barely dawn."

"He so looks forward to your coming home," she said, then yawned. "You should do something special for him... like make breakfast..."

"While you sleep a little longer, is that the plan?" Walter tried to look indignant and failed. There was something more to her sleepy face, a something sated, a something spent, that gorged his ego. _He_ was responsible for that look, and not only on this face.

This was just the face that he loved the most.

Elizabeth's smile was fading as sleep reclaimed her. Walter leaned in and kissed her lips before he left the bed.

He pretended not to hear Peter's stealthy approach to the kitchen door. He made a great show of flipping a pancake. "Good morning, son," he said without looking around.

"How did you know I was here?" Peter said, stepping into the room.

"I have super-acute hearing," Walter said, looking down at the boy as he turned from the stove to set a plate of pancakes on the table. "It was installed when you were born. Standard equipment for fathers." The child looked skeptical but before he could pursue the subject, Walter said, "Come eat your pancakes before they get cold."

Peter grinned and ran to the table, saw what was there and turned a smile on his father that brightened the room. "You made whales!"

Walter grinned. "So I did." He rested a large hand on the small boy's head and thought again of how very precious his son was to him.

It didn't for a second occur to him that things might not always be this way: his son healthy, his wife happy, the other women in his life willing sexual partners. So certain was he of his right to this kind of happiness that he never once questioned it, or thought that perhaps his perfect world might one day come crashing down on his head. It was inconceivable.

Walter remained a happy man.


End file.
